


Sàbhailte

by zoemathemata



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-26
Updated: 2011-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-26 13:42:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoemathemata/pseuds/zoemathemata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for LJspook_me Challenge, creature = vampire. Rodney has one goal after being turned: Keep John safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sàbhailte

“How long will we continue, John?”

John closed his eyes briefly and then snapped them open. Not that he could see much in the dark, but he couldn’t afford to get sentimental. He couldn’t afford to let Rodney’s voice, Rodney’s words lure him into longing or regret. He thought about all the times he’d wished that Rodney would call him by his given name, all the instances when Rodney’s clipped ‘Sheppard’ had made him yearn for the more familiar, more intimate sound of his given name.

He couldn’t help but think of the old adage, ‘be careful what you wish for.’

“I know you’re in here, John.”

John eased his way deeper into the abandoned laboratory. In the darkness he could easily trip over forgotten experiments or discarded samples but the darkness offered some protection, even if it was only slight.

Rodney could see nearly perfectly in the dark now. Nearly, but not quite.

In the past, he wouldn’t have worried about tripping over scattered items. Atlantis would feed helpful information directly into his brain. She would whisper when to turn, when to duck, when to move quickly, when to stay put.

She’d been growing quieter for weeks. Now she was silent.

Atlantis, it seemed, was on Rodney’s side.

“I don’t know why you’re making this so difficult, John. I’m trying to be… sensitive and understanding. Patient,” Rodney said, the timbre of his voice stumbling slightly on the words as if he couldn’t quite make out their meaning.

Which, at this point, he might not be able to, John wasn’t sure.

“But you need this John. I’m trying to keep you _safe_. I only want what’s best for you.”

John tried not to snort indignantly at the words. At Rodney’s voice, so careful and controlled. So different from his normally expressive intonations and inflections.

The kicker was, when Rodney had first been bitten, when Rodney started changing, they had foolishly, ridiculously and insanely _been excited_.

Beckett ran test after test and he’d compiled some lengthy report about DNA restructuring, protein coagulation and de-naturization in the digestive systems, higher synaptic loads, faster central nervous system responses. Overall, despite the drastic change in Rodney’s dietary needs, he was healthier now than he’d ever been in his life.

He could still eat regular food and supplement his diet with a synthetically produced iron and plasma-heavy cocktail that Beckett cooked up. They’d all joked that Rodney must be the first of his kind fed by a laboratory. Rodney had laughed right along with them that he was version 2.0 - more environmentally friendly!

The new shrink, Svental, ran personality profiles and behavioral tests and cleared Rodney as ‘not significantly altered from his pre-infection state.’

Rodney had groused that was hardly an accurate scientific diagnosis and was essentially meaningless, but if it got him back on off-world rotation, he’d take it.

Rodney became like Atlantis’ new toy for a while. Everyone had heard about his change and wanted to try him out. He was faster, stronger, more accurate with his P-90, able to run along side Ronon and not get tired, able to bantos fight with Teyla and land a few stinging blows. Ronon slapped him on the back, Teyla beamed at him and Rodney smiled exuberantly, extraordinarily pleased with himself.

The marines took him to the firing range and made exorbitant bets about what his accuracy would be. They hooted and hollered in glee when he took his first shot and then managed to shoot the remainder of his clip through the small paper hole the first bullet had made.

When they were finally cleared as a team again for away missions, John didn’t have the knife edge of fear digging into him constantly that they wouldn’t be able to keep Rodney safe.

Physically, Rodney was on par with the rest of his team.

No, not on par, thought John. Rodney had been _better_.

Like children given a dangerous toy that they didn’t understand, they thought it was fantastic.

Rodney hated the v-word. It conjured up too many absurd images featuring Bela Lugosi or Max Schreck. One of the marines asked Rodney where his cape was. Another asked him if he could turn into a bat yet or if he suddenly felt the need to sleep in a wooden box. Rodney would roll his eyes at all of them and then make some scathing remark about their intelligence (or lack thereof) and move on.

Looking back on it now, John supposed he should have known that something was up then. In retrospect, he can see how Rodney’s eyes had been flat and calculating, even as his tone had been light. How the slight slant of his mouth had turned into a disdainful curl, more cruel and… distanced than Rodney’s normal disparagement.

The scientists hovered around him like wary dogs and he continued to yell at them just as he always did, for being slow, lazy and stupid.

Until the day he got fed up and flashed his fangs at them.

The labs were particularly subdued after that.

But, really, it wasn’t until P4X-582 that John first felt his gut twist at the changes in Rodney.

They called themselves the Nend and they lived in an abandoned Ancient outpost. When John stepped in, the entire place lit up like the fourth of July.

The Nend loved John.

They wanted to keep John.

And Rodney…. Rodney made sure that didn’t happen.

According to Teyla’s report, at first, Rodney tried to bludgeon them with his intellect, expounding all the reasons why keeping John (and peripherally, himself, Teyla and Ronon, all locked in a wooden cage) was a bad, bad, _very bad_ idea.

The Nend did not care.

When that didn’t work, Rodney moved onto what the response would be from Atlantis if the team did not return. Armed men, weapons, grenades, explosions that would be unlike anything they’d ever seen.

The Nend were unimpressed.

Rodney moved onto threats of scientific violence. He had destroyed 5/6ths of a solar system, taken down Wraith Hive ships. He could and would wipe their planet of all indigenous life if they weren’t freed.

The Nend were indifferent.

John asked Teyla if there’d been some kind of sign at that moment. Some kind of portent of what Rodney was about to do. She only shook her head solemnly and said no more.

By the time Rodney made it back to the sacred temple in which John was being held, over thirty Nend were dead.

Drained.

_Exsanguinated_

Rodney had one small spray of blood that arced across the pale white expanse of his own neck. It was the only outward sign anything of a violent nature had happened.

John stood up expectantly as Rodney strode into the temple, Teyla and Ronon at his heels. His eyes were a brighter blue than John had ever seen, the apple of his cheeks pink-tinged. He looked more alive than John had seen him in weeks.

He snapped his fingers once at John.

“Your rescuer cometh,” he said and John should have felt like smiling, should have been relieved.

But he hadn’t been. He’d shivered, and at the time, he hadn’t been sure why.

As they made their way back to the gate, Ronon watched Rodney out of the corner of his eye, as if Rodney were some kind of an impostor. Teyla carefully picked her way over the bodies avoiding eye contact with Ronon, Rodney or John.

They were silent as they dialed Atlantis.

John’s report was sparse. He really didn’t know what had happened. Teyla and Ronon included no details of the ( _massacre_ ) event, only that Rodney had managed to free them and ‘dispatched’ a group of Nend before locating Colonel Sheppard and freeing him as well.

No mention was made of the pale, exsanguinated bodies that were tossed carelessly aside on the Nend homeworld.

After that… after that John felt like Saul at Damascus. The scales had fallen from his eyes and he could see.

Rodney had been showing up late for team nights, if he joined them at all. Instead of his usual, scathing commentary during any and all films, he was silent. His blue eyes flickering over the screen carelessly. Disinterested.

Though Beckett had maintained Rodney could still eat as he normally did, Rodney stopped joining them for meals in the mess.

He smiled less and less and when he did, it didn’t reach his eyes.

While it could never be claimed that Rodney was a nice boss, he was always engaged. He always knew what everyone was working on, why it was wrong and what they needed to do to fix it. He was generally more than happy to let each and every scientist know what they needed to do.

Now he just fixed their work and dismissed them with cold, clinical eyes. Told them flatly their work was wrong and they were no longer needed on the project.

When Rodney had been _turned_ , they’d all been so excited over the physical changes they were completely unprepared and ignorant of the _other_ changes.

“John.”

Rodney’s voice, carried on the darkness snapped him back to the present.

“I don’t want to force you, but I will if you persist in being unreasonable.”

John could tell by the way Rodney’s voice echos that Rodney was across the lab, in the doorway. Just as he was sure that from his voice, Rodney knew exactly where he was as well.

“No-fucking-thanks, McKay.” _McKay, McKay - think only of McKay and not of_ Rodney.

A long suffering sigh emanated from Rodney’s lips. “John. Please. You have to trust me on this. It’s for your safety. For the safety of Atlantis.”

“Like killing half the science team was for the safety of Atlantis?” John shot back quickly.

“Yes, John. It was. Atlantis agreed with me. They were endangering us all. They were careless and unknowledgeable. More important, they indicated a low capability to adapt. If Atlantis and I hadn’t neutralized them, they would have ended up endangering us.”

“And the marines?”

The hardest decision of John’s life had been sending a team of Marines after Rodney after he had ‘neutralized’ the scientists.

And then sending another team when the first failed to report back.

Now John had seven dead marines and three more were in the infirmary with dismal prognosis’.

“I asked you not to do that, John. Atlantis asked you as well.”

“Well forgive me for not rolling over and complying with the wishes of a… “ John’s voice broke off. Even he had a hard time with the v-word in reference to Rodney. “With your wishes and that of a whacked out AI.”

“Marines are… replaceable.”

“The fuck, McKay.”

“I’m sorry, but it’s true, John. And I did ask you not to send anyone after me. Atlantis told you what would happen if you did.”

John didn’t know how much of Rodney’s… emotional degeneration was due to his condition and how much was due to Atlantis.

As the virus turned Rodney, increasing his speed and strength, it affected his mental acuity and emotional responses as well.

It made him _smarter_.

They had joked at first that they didn’t believe it was possible. John had teased Rodney about it saying that he thought Rodney once said there wasn’t room for improvement, but clearly there was.

As Rodney’s intellect and physical prowess increased, he became less _Rodney_.

John had always thought that Rodney’s neurosis and quirks were a product of his extraordinary intelligence and perhaps to extent, they were. But as the virus spread through his system, it stripped away Rodney’s insecurities, cleaved off his neurosis, carved at his inhibitions and social awkwardness, turning Rodney into the perfect predator.

Now there was nothing holding Rodney’s stunning intellect back. No physical limitations, no social compunctions, no fearful hesitations. Just clear, cold calculations and logic.

He had only the desire to survive and to ensure the survival of what he considered most important.

And that appeared to be John.

Somehow, Atlantis’ AI had reached out to Rodney. Beckett and Svental were still trying to determine if it was biological - part of the virus opening up his neural pathways that enabled her, Atlantis, to connect to Rodney - or if it was their shared compulsion to _keep John safe at all costs._

Beckett was trying to figure out a way to stop Rodney without killing him, still hopeful he might be able to possibly reverse the virus. Zelenka was trying to get into the mainframe, access the AI and see if he could hack it.

They tried locking Rodney up, Atlantis freed him.

John couldn’t risk putting him under guard. He was too afraid of what Rodney would do to get free.

John’s job was to keep Rodney away from the central spires of Atlantis. Keep Rodney, and Atlantis, occupied.

The easiest way to do that was for John to leave the central area and branch out into the farther, unexplored areas of the city.

Rodney would follow.

If only to keep him safe. But also to work on his ultimate goal.

To turn John.

Atlantis, according to Rodney, was fully in support of this goal. If John was turned, he would be _safe_.

John hadn’t told the others about Rodney’s plan. They only knew Rodney was drawn to John. They thought it was wrapped up in his connection to the AI. They thought it was Atlantis pushing Rodney to keep her favorite son safe and secure.

John didn’t abate their thoughts and tell them otherwise.

Rodney kept close to John as John worked his way into the farther outreaches of the city. He didn’t get close enough to have a face to face conversation. He left enough distance for John to pretend that he was keeping Rodney at bay, keeping some kind of distance.

“I don’t want it.”

“You need to trust me, John. It’s for your own good. You’ve shown a remarkable lack of concern for your own safety in the past. This can’t continue.”

John’s fingers ran along side the wall and he flinched when a door opened off to his right, no doubt opened for him by Atlantis, or Rodney, continuing the illusion that John could go as far as he liked.

But secure in the knowledge that no matter how far he went, he was still in the city.

John went through it, into another abandoned room, another dark, unknown space.

“I do my job, McKay. I do what needs to be done.”

“It’s that exact lack of awareness of the folly of your actions that forces Atlantis and me to take action.”

“McKay… Rodney. Fuck. You know me. You know I don’t want this.”

“Yes, John, I do know you. Which is why I know you _need_ this.”

John made his way further into the dark. He didn’t know why he persisted in moving further away when all Rodney did was follow after him. Like a slow-motion game of cat and mouse. They’d been at it for days. He slept minimally, knowing Rodney would keep his distance while John slumbered. He felt his stomach rumble in hunger and knew he should pull another ration out of his backpack. Rodney would also keep a discrete distance while John sat down and had a bite to eat. It was a strange pursuit, with the prey setting the pace, not the predator.

On some level, Rodney didn’t want to spook him, John supposed. He really did want to John to agree to be turned.

The kicker was, John had thought about it. Watching Rodney’s shadowy form in the half-light, hearing his footsteps trailing him, listening to the tones of Rodney’s voice. Sometimes… sometimes it was easier to forget why he needed to keep saying no. He wasn’t sure if Rodney had some kind of hypnotic power about him or if it was just John’s own emotions betraying him.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

But there were moments… dark, quiet moments where he almost wanted to say _yes_. Say yes and forget about the military, forget about the SGC, forget about keeping everyone else safe and just focus on Rodney. On what he never let himself have. He found it harder and harder to remember why he never let himself have it.

In all their years, he never said anything to Rodney about how he felt, but he guessed on some level, Rodney knew. Rodney had always known. It was in the way they hesitated while saying goodnight after movie nights, the way each of them looked expectant and hopeful when they hung out, the way they found excuses to sit next to each other instead of opposite each other in the mess, the way they always ended up bunking together on off-world missions.

Never spoken about but always _there_.

Now this. Rodney’s single-minded determination, all focused on John, everything else outside the glaring spotlight of Rodney’s mind.

Maybe the virus brought it to the surface. Maybe it was Atlantis’ AI compromising Rodney’s brain. Maybe it was finally time and this just happened to be the circumstances under which it all occurred.

Even though he supposed he knew the answer, he found he still needed to ask the question. The word escaped his lips before he really processed it.

“Why?”

There was a pause from Rodney and at first John thought that Rodney would misunderstand the question, would misinterpret what John was asking and continue to expound on John’s recklessness. When Rodney finally spoke his voice was soft, but sure. “Do you know, in the Athosian language, the verb ‘to miss’ is causative, whereby the object of the emotion causes that feeling in the subject.”

Rodney paused and John could feel that pause reverberate through his veins.

“You make me miss you, John.”

John leaned against the wall behind him and slid down to the ground. He was tired. He was weary, his emotions threadbare and frayed. Pegasus had worn him out. He’d lost friends, he’d lost soldiers, he’d killed people, he was tired of fighting, always fighting.

“I can’t.”

“Don’t you trust me?” Rodney’s voice floated over on the dark to him, closer than before, but still a respectful distance away.

“It’s not… It isn’t about… McKay…” John struggled with his words, his chest tight and painful. “Rodney, I _can’t_.”

And then, Rodney was beside him on the ground, holding him tightly, pulling him closer into his powerful embrace. John let his head tip to the side, let his jugular be exposed, closed his eyes.

“You don’t have to.”

Rodney’s voice was still just as steady and sure as it had been for the last several days. His lips were warm and soft against the tender skin of John’s neck. John thought he should pull back, he should tell Rodney ‘no’, he should pull out his Glock and threaten.

“I can’t,” he whispered again.

“Don’t worry, I _can_.”

He felt Rodney’s fangs, pointy pinpricks against his skin, felt them slide through the flesh, sinking in, felt the warm wetness of his own blood surge up and flood Rodney’s mouth. It seemed to go on forever. It seemed to only take seconds. He could feel Rodney’s hands around him, his fingers applying pressure to his arms and shoulders. Rodney’s tongue moving against the wounds, pulling more blood out. His own quiet, tight-chested breathing.

Then Rodney was cradling him close, making soft shushing nosies and wiping away at the tears that he didn’t even know where falling from the corners of his eyes, trailing down his face and into his hair.

He could hear _her_ again as well, purring loudly in his mind like a lazy, satisfied cat.

He should struggle. He should try to get away. Call for Beckett, call for Lorne, call for Ronon to come down here and blast them both.

He turned his face into Rodney’s chest and Rodney rocked him back and forth a little.

Rodney whispered in his ear.

“You’ll be so much better, John. You’ll see. You’ll love it. We’ll keep you so safe, John.”

He heard Atlantis in his mind as well.

 _Safe_.

He spared a thought for the rest of the expedition, for the marines, the scientists, the aliens of Pegasus.

He had no doubt that it was Atlantis who heard him, but it was Rodney who answered.

“They don’t matter as long as you’re safe. You’ll be so safe. You’ll be so, so safe. Always.”

John breathed deep feeling something uncoil in his chest and stomach. He felt something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Protected.

Secure.

“Don’t worry, John,” said Rodney and John could feel himself starting to drift into the same sleep that had affected Rodney when he’d been bitten. A deep, dreamless sleep, free from trouble. He felt the cool press of Rodney’s lips against his own.

“We’ll always keep you safe.”


End file.
